


The Dantooinian Job

by jaded_of_mara



Series: White Knight, Black King [1]
Category: Leverage, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Gen, tags and warnings will be updated as this goes along im just incredibly lazy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-05-08 21:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14702913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaded_of_mara/pseuds/jaded_of_mara
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi is tired of just existing. He wants to leave a meaningful mark upon the galaxy. He wants to ensure peace and justice reign supreme.What he wants can only be accomplished with a little leverage.





	1. Ben 1

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat alone in one of Mos Eisley's shiftiest bars on one of Tatooine's hottest days. The bar was empty, except for him and the bartender. It was the day of the Boonta Eve Classic, 30 years after the first human victory, the announcers were quick to point out. No other human had won since. The broadcomm sound was tinny and staticky, indicative of a storm on the way. The winner, who was only notable for being the grandson of one Ben Quadinaros, had just been announced. Obi-Wan ordered another tumbler of whiskey, too far from the Core for it to be any good.

"Excuse me, hi, hey, are you Obi-Wan Kenobi? Serevd in the Clone Wars, Jedi Knight?" A nervous young man, heavily scarred, interrupted his contemplation. "Eanjer Kunarazti, I'm looking to hire you."

"I'm not interested" Obi-Wan curtly replied.

"Please, I desperately need your help. I work for an organization, and we have our annual meeting coming up. The project I was working on, it was stolen. Stolen by members of the Black Sun." His eye looked around, watching the exits.

"That really is too bad. I hope you're able to contact the authorities about it."

"The authorities? That could take years! I don't have that kind of time. No, I want to hire you to steal it back. Master Kenobi, my life is on the line."

Obi-Wan's eyes grew cold. "Whatever you think I may be, I am not a thief."

Kunarazti began to look panicked. "Of course not! No, I want you to supervise my team of thieves. You're an honest man. I can trust you to manage these criminals, make sure they do what they need to." He began to take on a conspiratorial tone, "Also, I'm paying each of them 300,000 credits for this job. For you, double. And besides the point, Black Sun is openly supported by the Empire. You could stab the heart of those who destroyed your way of life."

Obi-Wan paused. Even living an ascetic's life on Tatooine, he needed funds. Having a cushion under him would be most helpful, especially while continuing his search. He had decided. "All right, I'm in. Tell me, who did you have in mind?"

Kunarazti handed over a file, with information printed on flimsi inside. Really, in 980 PR, he was still using flimsiplast. Any other data storage method would have been much more secure, and much more discreet. He looked over the pages provided. Slicer, that was good. Hired muscle couldn't hurt. And then-

"Ekkreth? You want to hire Ekkreth? They're crazy." he asked incredulously.

Kunarazti looked defensive. "I only want to hire the best. Ekkreth is the best."

Obi-wan had to concede the point. Even out here, he'd heard tell of Ekkreth's exploits, though how many of them were urban legend was unclear. Even the most sheltered old grandmothers seemed to have outlandish stories about them.

"Where do you want us to meet?"

"The Cam'i Petal hotel, across the road from Black Sun's regional offices, in Mos Espa, at about 1900 tomorrow. You'll be meeting the others there."

"I shall be there.'

"Thank you, Master Kenobi! You won't regret this!" Kunarazti excitedly said as he began making his way out of the dark, dingy bar. "You will do great things!"

Obi-Wan snorted at that last bit of flattery. He decided it would be better to switch to what the bar claimed was water, and arrange transport in the morning. Mos Espa was more than 5000 klicks away, and he had only a day to get there.


	2. Han 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han needed this job. Especially after everything had happened with his old -- never mind. He had more important things to worry about. Like working with a supervisor. And 300,000 credits. The sooner he could get back in the game, for real this time, the better.

Han Solo knew, on some level, that this job was too good to be true. He just didn't care. 300,000 credits would be enough to put a sizable dent in his debts to Jabba, and working on a crew was nice. After what had happened last time -- nope. Doesn't matter. One time only, competent crew, quick job, big payout, done.

He'd heard stories of his partners before, even worked with Chewbacca a few times. (The first was when he was young and stupid and had to -- stop it. Focus on the future.) Ekkreth was a legend; new to the scene, scary competent, completely anonymous. Kenobi was more of an enigma. Worked as a general back during the Clone Wars, stayed out of the scene in the 17 years since it ended. Now he was back, but he didn't seem like the type of man looking for a payout. 

They were all stationed on the roof of the Cam'i Petal Hotel, waiting for nightfall. For now, it just looked like four friends, hanging out on the roof at sunset, trying to keep cool without resorting to the smoky chambers of the hotel ballroom. Although, it looked like Han and Kenobi were the only ones who had made sensible clothing choices. Han was in regular spacers' fare, but in lighter colors and looser cuts than usual. Kenobi looked to be wearing a cross between 'dead Jedi' and 'homesteader chic'. Ekkreth, foolishly, was wearing a tight, all black outfit that concealed everything about their being. Chewie didn't really have a choice about weathering this heat anyways, so Kenobi graciously let them wait to start until 2100 that evening.

The silence was thick and heavy, and someone needed to do something about it. Han decided to be that person.

"So, is anyone's first visit to Tatooine?" he asked, desperately trying to break the ice.

Ekkreth looked at him impassively. He could feel the judgement radiating out from their black and gold filigree mask.

Kenobi cleared his throat. "I've lived here the past 17 years. I still find it hard to deal with the heat. I've not heard of anyone from -- where I'm from, who has."

Chewbacca rumbled something to the same extent. He elaborated that he usually tended to avoid jobs that took him to desert worlds in the first place.

"Yeah. Anyone who came to Tatooine by choice is clearly a madman." (Kriff. Kenobi had to have moved out here for some reason.) "I mean, it has its charms, I guess. It's actually pretty lovely!" (Oh, come on, he was only making this situation worse.)

Kenobi let out a small chuckle. Han shifted awkwardly, then looked through his macrobinoculars to the Black Sun facility. Shift change. Bingo. 

"Alright, comms. These use biometric scans to determine the optimum volume, and pick up audio through vibrations in your jaw. Don't take them out, they don't pick up audio well if they're in the open air. I developed these myself, so they should work."

Chewie asked whether they would work for him.

"Yes, don't worry, I made sure to check with an old friend before using them here. This is really just their trial by fire, they've already undergone any other testing they may need. Go ahead and put them in, we're just waiting on Kenobi's count." The old man himself was busy setting up a hologram display of the building, with three dots off to the side representing them.

Ekkreth put their comm in first, pulling back their hood slightly to reveal a tuft of blonde hair. Kenobi was next, taking to the role with surprising grace, for someone who had never stolen before. Then was Chewbacca, fidgeting with it until it fit right. Last was Han himself, taking a deep breath and trying to switch his mindset from con to job. There was a reason the team needed a slicer, other than for mere equipment.

"Shall we test the comms?" Ekkreth calmly asked. "I wish to be prepared for any eventualities once we enter the building."

Han sighed. Those who didn't understand tech killed him a little on the inside. "We can all hear each other standing here. We kind of have to wait til we're inside to test."

"I see. Well, then." Suddenly, Ekkreth pulled out a grappling gun from somewhere in their toolbelt, shot it at the facility, and leapt off the side of the building. Han was awed by their calm grace and cool confidence. Once Ekkreth had gotten to a secure location, near a wide-seeming windowsill, they shot the grappling line back so that Han and Chewie could zip across while Ekkreth checked for motion and pressure sensors.

Once clear, Ekkreth did a small series of somersaults and flips to land inside. Chewie just climbed, with the grace of someone who had climbed his whole life. Now it was Han's turn. And wow, that wide windowsill could only be 6 centimeters across, and the window entrance was surprisingly narrow, and he was very far from the ground, and he had no harness, only his own strength, and -- He found himself being guided somehow, maybe by the wind, into the building. He felt his chest relax for him, and he climbed inside almost on autopilot.

Now was the part where they split up. Ekkreth went off in search of any files and trinkets small enough to take, while Han and Chewie looked for any room that could hold servers, or even, (shudder) tapes. They were just entering a stairwell when they heard Ekkreth's panicked voice over the comms.

"The guards are doing their patrols an hour early. It may be time to abort the mission, please advise."

Kenobi's voice came through next. "Stay calm. Can anyone think of why they may be doing this?"

Ekkreth gave a resounding "no", and Chewie just shrugged. Han may have had an idea.

"It is the boloball galactic playoffs, sir. They may be wanting to watch that," He hesitantly put forward.

"It seems now is the time for sports. Right, your server room is going to be two floors down and the first left following the second right in the center corridor that you will see."

"Ugh. Who even designed this building," Han asked rhetorically, not expecting a response. Ekkreth narrating the next few minutes of searching was unexpected, but being talkative was better than them being mysterious. 

Upon arriving at the door to the server room, Han found that the door was locked with an incredibly comprehensive biometric scan, specifically designed for Falleen, most likely Prince Xizor. Not to worry. There were as many spoofs as there were systems in the galaxy, and more each day. It would only be a matter of minutes before gaining entry to all of the information they needed.

Predictably, that's when the guards showed up. Han could hear their voices first, and then their footsteps. Chewie, having much better hearing, was long gone by now. Han couldn't abandon his decoder now, so he had to just con his way out of this. He could do that. He was an expert grifter. Just ask -- don't ask him, bad example. He pulled out a signal jammer that would work (even if it cut off his own comms), pressed the button, and waited. Too soon, two Falleen guards came around the corner of the hall. 

"Good evening, gentlemen. You may think that I am in a compromising situation, but in fact, I must say, that I had intended to be here, and if you go back and study the Common Laws of Tatooine, you'll find that I have every right to --" the guards pulled out their blasters. Kriff. It seems the Academy hadn't taught him everything he needed to know about bullshitting. 

Suddenly, from the shadows, burst Chewie, taking them both down. He pulled on the arm of the first guard, simultaneously taking out the knee, and probably dislocating their shoulder. Ouch. The next, he lifted onto his shoulders into a firecrew's carry, and then slammed onto the ground, shoulder-first. Both lay there moaning, waiting for backup that would never come.

While Chewie was taking them down, the door had quietly clicked open, and Han was ready to steal Black Sun's information. 300,000 credits and a massive amount of information on an enemy? That ought to pay off his debt fairly quickly. For good measure, he also injected a few viruses. It was less than what Black Sun deserved, but well. Now that two guards were down, they were on a time crunch.

Compact tapes in hand, Chewie at his back, he turned off the jammer to chaos in his ears. Ekkreth and Kenobi were frantically whispering about what to do if they failed to come back in contact -- Ekkreth in favor of waiting their silence out, Kenobi in favor of pulling out before losing Ekkreth as well.

"We're back, we've got the goods, we're fine, don't worry." Han interjected, derailing whatever tangent Kenobi was trying to draw Ekkreth onto. "We do gotta move, though. The rest of them aren't gonna be happy we took out two of their not finest."

There was silence on the comms for a bit. “I have an exit. Meet me on the roof in 5 minutes." Only Ekkreth could think that was a reasonable suggestion.

Han scoffed. The roof, he wasn't an animal, he was a professional. "I'm sure we could get out of here easier. Jumping off roofs ain’t exactly a great pastime."

Ekkreth sighed. "You can't con pheromones, Han. But I'd guess you've already tried that."

Han rolled his eyes. Of course he'd already tried that, and he'd try again, especially if the roof were his only other option. However, somehow sensing this, Chewie practically grabbed him by his jacket and dragged him up the stairs. Really, taking the stairs before Chewie was just in the sense of self-preservation. Ekkreth was calmly waiting on the roof when they got there.

"Strap in. Falling to your death is far less comfortable than a harness. Make sure it is tight." Ekkreth was completely no-nonsense. They even had a Wookiee-sized harness stashed away, so they could all make their escapes.

Hitting the ground was simple. Handing off the compact tapes to their client was even simpler. But falling asleep, dreaming of the 300,000 credits that would be in his account the next morning? That was the simplest thing he'd done in his entire career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm still just trying to work out a style. The best way to do that is to just write anything. So this is anything.
> 
> I plan on changing POVs each chapter. Well, I say POV, but this is really just 3rd person but not as much anyone else. As usual, let me know if I make mistakes, and if you see a fun callout to the EU, hopefully it was intentional.


	3. Chewbacca 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chewbacca had been around the galaxy long enough to know to never turn down easy money. He had also been around long enough to smell a trap a kilometer off. Fortunately, there's more than one way to recieve payment from a client. Most of those ways are easier with a team.

Chewbacca roused himself midmorning the day after a small, simple job. It would have been just like any other job he'd taken in the past, except for one suspicious thing: three times the usual payout for half the usual amount of actual work. Times were tough, and the job seemed enticing, so of course he'd taken it, but some thought had caused him to regret that decision.

He regretted that decision even more when he had the time to check the accounts he used for his business that afternoon. He didn't know what Kunarazti's definition of "prompt payment" was, but a term like that was very specific back on Kashyyyk. Luckily, he'd saved his employer's contact information. It was the middle of the day. He wouldn't be busy. And if he was, well, whomever he was with would see him suffer the consequences of backing out on a deal, and reconsider their decision to work with him.

He pulled out his vaper comm to yell at Kunarazti. See how well he could handle the pressure.

"The money you promised me is not in my account. If you would like to retain all of your current limbs, I suggest you transfer it within the day." Mighty Tree, if Malla could hear how he spoke,she would weep.

Kunarazti said something panicked. He equivocated. Said something about investors not liking the trouble. 

"I strongly recommend going against your investors. They only have monetary power over you. I've worked with you. I am stronger than you. If I must, I have information on you that will implicate you. If you do not wish to anger me, then abide by what we agreed to."

Kunarazti conceded. Told him to go to a warehouse on the outskirts of Mos Espa. Probably a trap, judging by the tone of voice. It did not matter. He was stronger than any armed thugs that a mild businessman would bother sending.

The only possible upside to being a former Imperial slave is knowing how to communicate with those in a similar situation that he had once been in. It granted him access to a great many places he needed to get to for jobs, such as the tunnels underneath Mos Espa, which were significantly cooler than the surface. Giving out credits and sweets to the children within was more than worth it in return for their use.

The tunnels terminated a few blocks from the warehouse that Kunarazti ordered. Chewbacca could smell that there was someone already there. Solo, the human cub to whom he owed his freedom. Who constantly rejected his favors, who did not want to be cared for. Who clearly needed a parent, or at least some guiding force in his life. The fact that the others had been told to meet at this warehouse only further told him that this was a trap. It would be easier for those unscrupulous types to get rid of them all at once.

Walking into the cool main room of the warehouse, he did not expect to find a blaster pointed at him. Given that the last person to have the tapes before handing them off to Kunarazti's representative was Solo himself, he found the accusation on his honor both ironic and slightly offensive.

"Child, you misunderstand the situation to think that I am to blame. Our employer must have decided to not pay us. We will not be served by fighting amongst ourselves."

Solo angrily replied that they obviously had to have someone to blame, and that Kunarazti wouldn't so blatantly try to steal from them. It would be suicidal for him to do so.

Ekkreth chose that moment to stroll into the warehouse. It seemed they had come to the same conclusions as Chewbacca. Han and Ekkreth tried debating the finer points of their theories, until Ekkreth tilted their black mask to the side.

They warned that whatever danger they were in, they would be safer on the streets, rather than in the building. Chewbacca was not inclined to agree, but chose to follow them and Solo, just because they could not protect themselves as well as he could. Both seemed too young to be involved in this line of work, even for humans.

In the horrible hot suns, Chewbacca began examining the sightlines just outside of the building. Seeing that they were clear of anyone intending to cause harm, he looked to the convergence of streets and alleys that they were standing on. This would not be a good place to be in a fight. Seeing Kenobi walking towards them only confirmed that. Chewbacca had worked with the Jedi, trusted the Jedi, but he also knew what happened when Jedi went dark. He knew how hard it was to tell until it was too late. His wariness had kept him alive this long; it did not hurt to be overcautious.

Solo immediately confronted Kenobi upon his arrival. To be fair, betrayal by Kenobi did make a small amount of sense. It was, however, far more likely that Kunarazti betrayed them himself, and used Kenobi as an intermediary to throw them off the scent.

Kenobi engaged Solo for a short time, but then looked anxiously at the warehouse. His eyes widened. He threw up his arms and his face grew strange. Chewbacca had only an instant to wonder on this before the building exploded. Bits of rubble flew through the air, miraculously not hitting anyone.

Or maybe not so miraculously. Both Kenobi and Ekkreth had their hands in the air, Kenobi's face focused, Ekkreth's mask impassive. Chewbacca had worked with enough Jedi during the war to tell that Ekkreth was trained in their arts, and Kenobi had been a public figure before the war's bloody end. Both were focused on the buildings around them, searching for more threats, while Solo still panicked about the bomb. Chewbacca readied his bowcaster. Jedi instincts were rarely wrong.

Back on Kashyyyk, he had been a hunter. He knew what it was to kill, and he knew what it was to be hunted. When the first assassin stepped out from the shadows, he was prepared. Bowcasters were powerful enough to send smaller humanoids flying -- this assassin was no exception. He spotted a figure on a rooftop. Sniper. He grabbed Solo by the scruff of his jacket and dragged him to cover. The hair on the top of his head was singed, and the distinct smell of ozone began to fill the area. Just missed. One shot from a bowcaster was enough to dispatch that sniper, and hopefully deter any others.

Solo was calmer now, patting down his sides, looking for a blaster. He loudly complained about being foolish enough to leave it on his ship. Chewbacca suspected he had run out of Tibanna cartridges -- or perhaps did not have a blaster at all. Assassins were now flooding out of the alleyways. Times were lean enough under the Empire that the thought of dying in an attempt was not enough deterrent to entering the field. Or maybe they were just on too much spice.

Kenobi had drawn his lightsaber, and was deflecting blaster bolts from their assailants. Ekkreth had fount a section of metal rod that was about as long as they were tall. Their experience with staff fightitng was born in a school, however, not experience. They wielded it handily, but not as confidently as one would prefer a comrade-in-arms to be.

Chewbacca saw that it was now time to enter the fray. Bowcasters were never made for combat in close quarters. "Do not touch my weapon," he advised Solo. He was strong enough and skilled enough that these fools would end the day with fewer limbs than they started with. Kenobi seemed to be of the same philosiphy. Better to lose a limb than a life, and Ryll couldn't enter non-existent veins. 

Solo had found a shorter piece of metal, and was wielding it like a blirns bat. A few crushed in skulls and bashed in knees from him and Ekkreth, and limbs littering the ground from Chewbacca and Kenobi finally seemed to be the turning point for the gang attacking them. When there were only a few dead or injured, their loss could still be recouped. When nearly the whole gang was unable to fight, those who could turned and fled. Easier targets would be found another day.

He and Kenobi had fought for long enough to know not to waste energy on flashy moves or showing off. Solo instead chose to dramatically throw his length of durasteel at a fleeing attacker and yell something vulgar.

Chewbacca had blood in his hair. It was hot, and sticky, and the copper-based blood of some species mixed nauseatingly with the already congealing iron-based blood of others. No sonic shower would be able to completely wash this out. Ekkreth's long, scarf-like hood was singed at the ends -- not singed, still smoking. 

Solo saw this as well, and tore it off Ekkreth's head to stamp out the smoulder. Ekkreth turned, prepared to attack him for the transgression, but understood after a moment.

Without the hood, another identifying feature was revealed. Sandy blonde hair was in a youthfully short and shaggy cut. Ekkreth most likely lived by themself, and had no one to properly groom them. This was another cub in need of a caretaker. The galaxy seemed to have too many of those recently. Thoughts of Lumpawaroo came up unbidden, memories of home and clan and family driving him to action.

"With this threat, we can no longer afford to work independently. We function well as a team. At least until this threat is dealt with, we must continue to work as such."

This earned him nods and agreements. Solo offered the use of his ship as a base of operations. From their previous encounters, Chewbacca knew that Solo cared more for versatility than safety or quality. 

The rest seemed to know this as well, but could offer no objections. They agreed to meet at Docking Bay 94 at 15:00 local time. Plenty enough time to collect his meager things, while being soon enough to begin planning in earnest. Kunarazti would not be happy that they had survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy. It was torture finishing that one. Its been sitting in my drafts literally 95% completed for _3 months_ guys, 3 months. I don't know what it was that took the wind out of my sails, but wow, I've been stuck in the creative doldrums for a while guys. Anyway, glad to be back!
> 
> The way I wrote this chapter is kinda experimental, I'm sorta making fun of the way people write Chewie dialogue from an outsider's perspective, where they just put down the gist of whatever he's saying. Concrit welcome for this!


	4. Ekkreth 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ekkreth should have known taking this job was a bad call. But the prospect of revenge is just so sweet.

The alley behind the Stormseeker townhouse was empty. The midafternoon suns had driven all but the slaves indoors. There was an extra berth on a ship in Docking Bay 94 at the Mos Espa Spaceport. Ekkreth's dead drop had not been touched.

He sent a pulse out into the Force, just to make sure. Just in case, he had three more drops scattered throughout the town, although all were miserably stocked. That his favorite had not been touched meant that he could leave the rest for the future -- or for someone else to find. All had a mask, a nutrient bar, and instructions. Simple diagrams on safecracking, getting past security systems. If those drops were found before he returned, three more Ekkreths could be born.

His current mask was a liability. Kunarazti had seen it. Holo footage of it surely existed somewhere, ready to be used against him. Of course he had contingencies in place. He dug through the bag, grabbed a water pouch, and opened up the bottom pocket. A collection of masks stared out at him. The mask he wore for this job had been his favorite. Black wood, aurite inlay, traditional Saccorran patterns. A mask for jobs with low visibility, a mask that he could wear again -- would have been able to, at least. Damn.

He changed masks to his blandest, most boring one. Something that could be from any number of planets. A party favor; white plasteel that covered his face, no eyeholes. The first mask he had ever chosen. One would need to install a camera to find their way around while wearing it -- or have the Force. 

He'd lost his scarf in the skirmish. He was a fool for wearing black in the desert, anyways. He opened the front compartment and pulled out a simple tan poncho, the kind that would fit in on any world in the galaxy. Checked the alley for cameras, in case someone had installed one since he last was there. None.

Mask in place, poncho covering his head, bag on his back, he left the alley. He had one more stop to make before the rendezvous.

Kunarazti had rented out an office in the center of Mos Espa. Within view of the Hutt Palace, and the racetrack, it had seemed like the prime real estate a reputable man would desire. Now, it was just one more layer to the con.

The office building had an underground speeder silo. Ekkreth found the slots designated for Kunarazti's supposed office, and stood. He cast himself out into the Force, trying to feel for any machinery. Something smaller than a speeder, smaller than a vaporator. Something -- there. A small holocam, in the corner. 

He turned his mask towards it. Pulled out the black mask, his favorite mask. Felt the warm wood in his hands, ran his fingers over the metal inlay. Drew on the power of the desert. He could feel the wood that once was alive. He could feel the oxygen that came from desert plants that were still alive. He could feel the heat of the suns. That cleansing heat, the erasing heat. He asked the Force, and the Force gave to him. 

He could feel sparks along his fingertips, that desert heat rushing through him and into the wooden mask. He dropped the mask on the floor of the garage, dusted his hands off, and located the camera once more. With a thought, he crushed it. Likely, Kunarazti was still monitoring the footage he got from that camera. Likely, he would watch the video. Kunarazti would know his crime.

Ekkreth left the mask still burning on the ground. When Kunarazti came, all he would find would be ash and charred metal, with no knowledge of what it meant. Ekkreth knew the power of symbols. Ekkreth was the first symbol every desert child learned -- Luke himself among them.

Time. Kriff. Luke had to get to Docking Bay 94 in... 5 minutes. He had to clear out of the garage, get moving, and go. He ducked back out into the desert heat, and began hurrying towards the spaceport. Not too fast -- people would assume something was wrong, try to follow him. Not too slow, either. It would draw attention to pickpockets. Just enough of a hurry that he looked like he had business. Which, he supposed, he did.

As he neared the docking bay, the sounds of argument became louder and louder. Or, one side, at least.

"That's suicidal!"

The response from Kenobi was too quiet for him to hear.

"If you want to show your face to the man who wants us dead, be my guest. But don't go dragging me or my ship into it!"

Luke came into the docking bay and felt white-hot anger from Han, cool interest from Chewbacca. He felt Kenobi's focus zero in on him.

"Ah, Ekkreth! I was just proposing to Mr. Solo that we go and teach Mr. Kunarazti an important lesson," Kenobi greeted.

Han snorted. "Yeah! And I was explaining that he knows our faces, and he'd kill us dead the second he saw us!"

A sense of smug excitement came radiating off of Kenobi. "I have another contact onplanet. I wasn't suggesting we use our own faces."

Han perked up. "Yeah? I'm listening."

"I'm sure we'd have a nicer time talking about it on your ship." With that, Kenobi turned and went up the ramp.

Really, all Luke could do was follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhh aaaaaaa
> 
> my goal is to write every day of spring break. so here i am.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just trying to get something on the page and out the door. If you want me to update anything, good luck with that. I'm pretty horrible at it. Please let me know if I messed something up. 
> 
> Also, I've taken some inspiration from Fialleril's [Double Agent Vader](https://archiveofourown.org/series/286908) series, so if you see something you're familiar with, that's why. Also, Obi-Wan is kinda oblivious and thinks that myth Ekkreth and thief Ekkreth are the same person - they are not.


End file.
